


The One Where Holster Takes Bitty to Pride

by Aisjustrunning



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisjustrunning/pseuds/Aisjustrunning
Summary: "You have never been to Pride?,” Holster asked.“Well… no?” Bitty hesitated. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m out at home, and I didn’t-”“I’m taking you to Pride,” Holster said,





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnjolrasSeizedTheDay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjolrasSeizedTheDay/gifts).



> This is for EnjolrasSeizedTheDay, who wanted to read about Holster taking Bitty to Pride. I hope you like this. Happy holidays!
> 
> Thanks to [Christina](http://greenleaves-never.tumblr.com) for the beta. She did a wonderful job. However, I've never been to Pride and I'm not a native speaker, so any remaining mistake is mine. Also, I own nothing here, but for Edith and Charlotte, who may or not have been loosely inspired by Fried Green Tomatoes, anyway, so I guess I own nothing at all.

May 2014

“You have never been to Pride?,” Holster asked. Bitty looked at him from where he was sitting on the grass. Holster was lying on a lawn chair, sunglasses and tank top on, enjoying the May sun. They were the only lucky ones who were done with classes, and were waiting for the rest of the team to finish theirs and join them on the back porch of the Haus.

“Well… no?” Bitty hesitated. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m out at home, and I didn’t-”

“I’m taking you to Pride,” Holster said, so matter-of-factly Bitty couldn’t keep explaining, couldn’t really form any thoughts.

“Mhm. What?” he was able to ask after a moment of looking at Holster open-mouthed.

“Pride. At the end of the month. Buffalo.“ Holster said, straightening up on his chair to look at Bitty. “I’m taking you.”

“I’m not sure, Holster. There are cameras, and… I just don’t know.”

“I promise I won’t let any camera near you. And it isn’t like they are going to show the Buffalo parade on TV in Madison.”

Bitty thought about it. It sure sounded fun. He had just never entertained the idea of going to something like that. But just because he couldn’t at home, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to do it elsewhere. This was part of the reason he came this far; to be himself. And this was part of the person he wanted to be.

“Ok.”

“We’re going?” Holster asked, positively beaming.

“We are going.”

\----- 

June 2014

The night before the parade, lying in his bed in the guest room of the Birkholz’ residence in a Buffalo suburb, Bitty couldn’t sleep. He was tired from the trip and pleasantly full of Holster’s mom’s latkes, but he was so nervous all he could do was turn restlessly in bed.

He knew that, if he told Holster he didn’t want to go anymore, it’d be ok. Holster may look at him sadly, but he wouldn’t push. They would marathon  _ 30 Rock _ together and in two days Bitty would be back home in Georgia, the trip forgotten.

That was when he realized that he didn’t want that. He wanted to go. Yes, he was nervous, but he was also excited about this. There was no turning back now; he was going.

\-----

Bitty was exhausted all morning, after a night of lousy sleep, but all signs of tiredness disappeared as soon as he and Holster reached the parade street. There were so many people, so much colour, Bitty didn’t know where to look. They were outside the parade proper, standing on the side, and Bitty couldn’t shake the slight pang of fear still, of being recognised, of rumours making it to Georgia, somehow. Holster wasn’t pressuring him, at all, just stood there by his side, smiling brightly. Bitty was glad Holster was with him for this, that he had somebody he could rely on.

Holster had always been good to him, from the beginning, even from before they knew how many things they had in common. Bitty moves closer to Holster, enjoying the calming presence next to him.

He zoned out, lost in those thoughts, when he heard the ladies next to him speaking in an accent he knew too well.

“There’s lots of people this year, honey. And those clothes!” the woman closer to them said. She was older, white hair and wrinkled face, rimmed glasses resting on her nose. She reminded Bitty of his Moo Maw.

Bitty tensed up for a second, expecting a snide remark from the other woman, too used to hearing that kind of comment in that voice, that accent.

He was surprised when the other woman answered, “Yes! They look so fabulous! Better every year! I feel underdressed every time, sweet pea, just with the same bracelet I wear every year. I always tell you to remind me to clean up for these, and you never do!”

“I’m sorry, Charlotte, my memory is not what it used to be, you know it well.”

“I know, dear, I know. Well, shall we go?” she raised her hand, palm up, and her girlfriend (wife? Bitty couldn’t be sure)  took it. They joined the march, walking behind a group of young people.

Bitty was staring, standing at the side, still leaning on Holster. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now, that mixture of hope and joy and surprise at finding an old same-sex couple from the South, all the way up here. He wanted to talk to them.

“Holster?”

“Hm?” He was looking ahead at the people marching.

“Have you seen them?”

“The lovely ladies?”

“Yeah… I want to talk to them.”

“We’ll have to join the march for that, Bits.”

Bitty didn’t even think, he didn’t hesitate, just took Holster’s hand a dragged him into the crowd, following the two Southern ladies. Bitty saw them in the middle of the crowd, walking and chatting with people, and ran to catch up to them. In the second since Bitty had just seen them, one had somehow found a pride flag balloon, that was now tied to her hand and rose above their heads. 

“Excuse me”, Bitty said, approaching them.

Both women looked at him, smiling, if a bit surprised. 

“May we walk with you,” Holster chimed in. Bitty was still holding his hand, but he hadn’t noticed before. He felt a bit self-conscious now, but he didn’t drop it. 

“Sure, dear. You both look like nice young men. We’d be honored, right, Edith?”

“Sure, but why would you want to walk with us old ladies,” added the other. Edith, it seemed.

“Well, I heard you speak and you sounded so much like home… it was reassuring.”

“It’s the first time he comes, ya know?” Holster added.

“Aw, how sweet. It’s fun, isn’t it? We come every year,” Edith said.

“Have been doing so for a while,” Charlotte said.

“Sweet. And how did you end up here? This far away from home?” Holster asked.

They kept walking and talking, while the two ladies shared their story. They grew up together in Alabama, were best friends since childhood, then left together for uni. Still together, always, and they realised then that they never wanted to be apart from each other. 

“Being able to leave for college was a blessing and a stroke of luck. It allowed us to explore what we felt, what we wanted,” Edith finished.

“And going back was a nightmare. My father--”

“Bless his heart,” Edith interrupted, the word dripping so much southern  _ courtesy  _ Bitty even blushed.

“Yes, well, he wasn’t happy about what he called “my perversions”. So we left.”

“As far as we could. And we’ve been here since then.”

“Oh.” Bitty didn’t know what to say. It was a happy story, in a way, since they were together, but he could not imagine leaving his home forever. “Don’t you miss your home?”, he asks, in the end. 

They both laugh. “We did, at first,” Charlotte said. “These yankees don’t know how to cook.”

“But we noticed home is where the other is.” 

“And it gets better, honey. It really does.”

It filled Bitty with warm feelings, thinking of them, older people loving each other, facing things he couldn’t imagine, just to be accepted. It gave him hope, even if they had to leave their homes. He wasn’t sure if he could do that: leave his parents, Georgia, his home. The idea of not seeing his mother ever again made him indescribably  sad, but he thought he could do it, if he found the right person. He hoped it wouldn’t get to that, though; he hoped he never had to choose. Holster, as if sensing his sudden change of mood, squeezed his hand. Bitty looked up and found Holster’s bright smile; he couldn’t help smiling himself.

The rest of the day passed in a blur: they talked to other people, danced, and Holster even carried Bitty on his shoulders for a while. He exchanged numbers with Charlotte and Edith, promising to go visit them and make some of his mama’s famous chicken-and-wild rice casserole.

When they made it back to Holster’s house, after a whole afternoon out, Bitty was exhausted, but happily so.

“Did you have fun?” Holster asked, while he fumbled with his keys to open the door.

“Yes! It was great!” He hesitated an instant. There was something he wanted to say, needed to say. He just didn’t know how to. But he was exhausted and content, and he felt that, if he didn’t say it now, he might never. “I wanted to thank you. For inviting me. I loved sharing this with you.”

“The pleasure was mine.” Holster was still smiling brightly, had been all day, but now he looked almost soft, as tired as Bitty, glasses a bit crooked as he looked down to meet Bitty’s eyes as they entered the house.

It was now or never. Bitty closed the distance between them and got on his tiptoes. He made his intentions clear and gave Holster time to back out. But Holster didn’t. His smile just got wider, so Bitty went for it.

He pressed his lips against Holster’s, soft, no real intent behind the movement besides the contact. Holster reacted immediately, separating his lips to accommodate Bitty’s, moving with him. 

The kiss was over almost as soon as it began, but Holster initiated another, that then turned into another and another, both standing at the hall in Holster’s house, kissing and laughing and smiling.

“I’m so glad you invited me,” Bitty said, in between kisses.

“I’m glad you came,” Holster answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comments are love. Feel free to come to [tumblr](http://ilovetextingandscones.tumblr.com) to see me cry about hockey, both real and fictional.


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